The Painter of Deduction
by That'sMyCupofTea
Summary: Catrina has been hiding her gift for years, only letting herself express her mind through a paintbrush. But when the Great Sherlock Holmes takes an interest in her, can she continue to paint her mask? Can Sherlock keep her close without falling too deep or will he allow himself to abandon the defences he has kept strong his entire life? Or will they both be burnt in their passion?
1. Chapter 1

**New Beginning's**

(Catrina's pov)

It was loud, so very loud. My ear drums were aching with each screeching car horn and every voice that rose from the busy crowd. Nose twitching, I inhaled the scent of car fumes and all sorts of colonels mixed together causing my stomach to turn. London was so different from Inverness, the air was too thick and the crowds moved so fast that everyone's faces seemed to blur. I could barely take it all in before I was rammed to the side by a loud, smartly dressed man. Finding my footing once more, I convinced myself that he only chose to not apologise as he was talking on the phone. However, I knew deep within my mind that that wasn't the truth at all but I cleared my mind of it and focused on the street in front of me. Although the weather was hardly ever sunny in Inverness, the skies of London appeared even greyer and everything seemed so robotic. Everyone knew where they were going, what route to take, what bus to get on and what address to say to the taxi driver of by heart. And here I was, the clueless Scottish girl with only two suitcases, her artwork and an address scribbled roughly on a coffee stained napkin from Costa in a sea of Londoners going about their business.

I grew more anxious as I stared at the words on the napkin, the numbers had ran a little after the coffee was split but it was still readable. Dad's handwriting was exceptionally neat for a man of his masculinity and carelessness. Exhaling sharply through my nose, I gripped my suitcases tightly, shoved the napkin back into the pocket of my dark red pea coat and swiftly made my way through the crowd. Noticing a taxi rank, I hopped straight into the back seat and smiled briefly before speaking, "221c Baker Street please." The driver smiled back in response and started on route to my destination. I let myself sink into the leather seat praying that this would go well.

(Mrs Hudson's pov)

Oh goodness, I hope she doesn't mind dust! There was no way in heavens I could clean up this old flat in time for the potential renter's arrival! I'd managed to get some new wallpaper put in to cover the plain walls to maybe make it look a bit more homely and I'd clean the fireplace so it didn't look as dirty. Looking around the room I rushed to the windows opening them to hopefully clear the air a bit. Finally someone wants to see the flat and it's a state! Placing a hand on my cheek, I shook my head slowly whilst I gazed around the room. Oh dear…I do hope this will do. Before I could do much else I heard someone at the front door.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Oh! That must be Sherlock and his new roommate. I'd completely forgotten about his new friend with the potential renter coming today. I was rather surprised in all honesty with Sherlock being how he is, that he'd managed to find someone to share his flat with in just a few days! Hopefully his roommate won't be another Sherlock, as much as I love the boy I don't think I could cope with two. Hurrying out into the hallway I wiped my dress of any dust before opening the door with a smile. Upon seeing Sherlock, I held my arms open and pulled him into a hug.

"Sherlock! Hello." He was in his usual black coat and blue scarf but he seemed a little thin…nothing some tea and biscuits can't fix.

"Mrs Hudson, Dr John Watson." Sherlock extended his arm out to a fellow standing next to him. He was slightly smaller than Sherlock but had a warm, welcoming smile with light blue eyes. The only thing noticeable about him was a cane which he leant on for support but it didn't faze me at all. After knowing Sherlock for quite some time nothing seemed strange to me anymore, only different.

"Hello, come in!" I beckoned him in with a movement of my hand. He smiled at me and replied with a thank you before stepping in. He seemed like a nice enough man and very human, which was good for Sherlock to be around! Who knows, maybe he'll learn from his new 'roommate' a bit. Thank goodness he wasn't another Sherlock.

"Shall we?" Sherlock stepped in after Dr Watson giving me a smile as he walked past. I shut the door and then followed them up the stars. After Dr Watson had looked around the living room seeming to be pleased with the flat, I turned to him with a smile and said, "Whatcha think then Dr Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you be needing two bedrooms." He frowned at me and then straightened his posture a bit as he replied, "Of course we'll be needing two…" Maybe the poor dear thinks I'd find that kind of life style unnatural, judging by his reaction.

"Oh don't worry, there's all sorts round here." I then lowered my voice into a whisper just to make sure only the boys could hear, "Mrs Turner next door's got married ones." Walking past Dr Watson into the kitchen I shook my head at the mess on the table and in the sink. "Tch, oh Sherlock look at the mess you've made!" Grabbing some cups from the sink I started washing up to make the place look a bit more presentable for Dr Watson. How that man can leave such a mess behind I could never understand. Sherlock and Dr Watson continued to chat in the living room about some website but I didn't pay it much mind. I hardly understood anything that Sherlock ranted about these days so I don't pay his conversations much attention anymore. Humming to myself, I glanced over to the newspaper by the cooker and read the headline, Serial Suicides. I left the cups to dry by the sink as I read over the story whilst slowly walking back into the living room.

"What about these suicides then Sherlock? I thought that would be right up your street. Three exactly the same-"

"Four" Sherlock interrupted me while he stared out of the window. "There's been a fourth and there's something different this time…"

I looked at him completely puzzled, "A fourth?" Sherlock didn't reply but just continued to stare out of the window at heaven knows what. After a second I suddenly remembered about our visitor. "Oh Sherlock?" Hearing my voice rise a bit with excitement, both Dr Watson and Sherlock turned to look at me. "There's a young lady coming to see about that old flat downstairs and I don't want you frightening her off. So please just be nice to her and don't do that thing you do when you meet someone. It frightens people sometimes you know."

"So you don't wish to know if she's had a history with drugs or perhaps owns a colony of pet squirrels? Because I for one wouldn't enjoy renting a flat to someone who owned one squirrel let only a whole colony of them." Shaking my head at him I folded my arms and looked at him in disbelief. "Oh honestly Sherlock, a colony of squirrels? That's a little silly don't you think? Besides I'm quite certain she would have mentioned that by now, just try and be nice okay dear?"

"I don't see a point but if it ends this conversation Mrs Hudson then very well. However if she turns out to be another blundering idiot then please do tell her to shut up or I will do it myself." I nodded with a small smile, for Sherlock that was quite a good response considering how rude he could be. Sometimes I just wish he could be a bit more human and to maybe stop leaving bloody heads in my fridge would be nice to.

Just as I was about to put the kettle on I heard two knocks at the front door. "Ah! That must be her!" I almost shouted in excitement as I walked down the stairs to fetch the young woman.

(Catrina's pov)

The taxi ride thankfully hadn't taken took long to get to Baker Street from King Cross station so I didn't have to endure my anxious thoughts in silence for an extreme length of time. Once I had paid the driver then made sure I had my luggage I left the taxi and stood outside the building. I paid no mind to the police cruiser that was parked along the pavement and focused on what was in front of me. It was a very tall building with white on the first level and then red brick on the remaining three levels. It didn't seem too fancy but it was quite pleasant to look at from the outside at least. I walked up to the front door and used the handle to knock twice before running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to look more presentable. Barely a minute had pasted before an elderly woman opened the door with a bright smile. Height slightly over 1.50 m, roughly aged 75-78, non-smoker, leaning on doorframe indicates a bone injury possibly hip due to age otherwise quite healthy. I gave myself a mental slap on the head before I let myself continue, I needed to stop doing that for goodness sake! It was becoming a bad habit.

"Hello I've uh, come to see about possibly renting flat 221c? My name is Catrina Bellstra." I smiled as I spoke, trying desperately to cover up the fact that I had stared at her for too long. She hadn't seemed to notice at all as her smile hadn't left her face as she replied in a sweet voice.

"Oh yes, Miss Bellstra we've been expecting you dear, I'm Mrs Hudson the landlady. Come in, come in!" Gesturing me in, I stepped into the hallway pulling my suitcases in with me. "I hope I don't offend you but I wasn't expecting you to be so pretty. With your lovely pale skin and red hair you look like an English rose!" I blushed at her compliment and quietly thanked her with a smile. Cheeks burning, I tried to focus on the hallway examining every detail. Judging from the hallway and the outside of the building it seemed to be a very well kept home although there was not much to say about the flat itself yet. Mrs Hudson then pulled out a set of keys from her pocket and walked to the other side of the narrow hallway. She looked at me with soft smile as I trailed a bit behind her.

"It's not much I'm afraid. Two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, I hope that'll be to your liking." I simply smiled in response as she unlocked the door and opened it. It wasn't that much. Just a room with an old fire place with a large window on the wall beside it. The walls were covered in a light sunshine yellow wallpaper and the beige carpet was a little dirty still but that could be easily fixed. Some new furniture, photos and a splash of colour and this flat would look as good as new. I smiled widely as I turned to Mrs Hudson who was tching at some dust on the doorframe.

"I'll take it! I'm a sucker for cosy flats and this is just perfect." Mrs Hudson looked slightly surprised by my sudden decision. "Are you sure you don't want to look at the other rooms before you decide dear? This old flats is a bit of a state-" I interrupted her with a wave of my hand.

"No, no, no Mrs Hudson this will do just nicely." Setting my suitcases down, I looked around the room thinking of all kinds of ideas to make the place look more homely.

"Oh it'll be so nice to have another female around. I love my boys to bits but nothing beats some female company don't you think?" I looked at Mrs Hudson a little puzzled. The boys? Given Mrs Hudson's age any sons of hers would be at least over the age of thirty. Surely no son would still be living with their mother at that age would they? "You have children?" I asked keeping my tone neutral. Mrs Hudson let out a warm laugh and shook her head from side to side. My brow furrowed.

"Oh no! Sherlock and John live upstairs dear. They rent flat 221b they're both quite nice boys I can assure you of that. Although Dr Watson's just moved in like yourself but he's a sweetheart I can tell. I'm quite a good judge of character you know!" Of course they aren't her children! Dear lord how could I be so silly. Before I could apologise Mrs Hudson asked with a grin. "Would you like to meet them?" My frown subsided and slight concern filled my mind. "Oh no, Mrs Hudson I wouldn't want to trouble them. I'd much prefer to-"

Mrs Hudson cut me off by taking my arm and gently pulling me along. "Oh nonsense! They'd love to meet their new neighbour. Oh and don't mind Sherlock he can be a bit strange at first but he is a lovely man." A bit strange in what way I began to wonder. I could barely even think before I found myself walking up the stairs and standing in front of the already open doorway of flat 221b.

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs Hudson chimed before stepping into the room. I had already started to twiddle my thumbs anxiously before I had even entered their lines of vision. The room itself was quite cluttered, books and various sheets of papers were scattered on the floor and on the coffee table. There were two leather seats by the fireplace along with a leather sofa opposite them. The fireplace was old but clean with unique candles and some old books placed on the mantelpiece. Was that a human skull? The teeth appeared to be set into the sockets so it was definitely a real human skull…rather odd. Other than the skull there didn't seem to be anything else that could be considered strange in the boy's living room which oddly disappointed me.

"Dr Watson, this is Miss Bellstra your new neighbour. Lovely isn't she?" Taking a deep breath, I willed my brain to not look too closely at the men standing in the room with me. The man who went by the name of Dr Watson smiled and stood up leaning against a cane, struggling to get up on his own whilst the other looked out the window with his back turned to me. I paid this no mind. I glanced at his leg momentarily, there didn't appear to be any struggle in his leg…a psychosomatic limp caused by a recent trauma-

"Pleasure to meet you! I'm Catrina but my friends call me Cat." I cut my thoughts short before I could go on. John shook my hand firmly but kept his posture firm. Army stance, tan lines-

'Shut up!' I yelled at myself in my head. Thankfully my expression hadn't seemed to give away the domestic that was going on in my mind as John hadn't wavered in the slightest.

"The pleasure is all mine Cat and just John is fine." I let his hand drop and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. If I kept my hands busy then I wouldn't look closer than I should. Mrs Hudson placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and guided me a few steps away from John to face the back of the other male.

"And this Miss Bellstra, is Sherlock Holmes."

**Author's Note – Hello reader! This is my first story on my new account and I do so hope you enjoyed the first little tastier. Please review if you did and feel free to live your comments/questions in your review. I read all my reviews and if there is a question wanting an answer then I shall answer them as soon as I can! If you'd like me to continue this story then please let me know so I can update as soon as possible! Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**An Open Book**

**(Sherlock's pov)**

"And this Miss Bellstra, is Sherlock Holmes." Hearing Mrs Hudson speak my name, I exhaled sharply through my nose at the thought of yet another social interaction. Nevertheless I reluctantly turned on my heel to face the new neighbour ready to uncover whatever character she might be hiding. Once I was facing the young woman in her early twenties my eyes began swiftly travelling her body starting with her shoes, a pair of knee high black leather boots, cleaned regularly but at least two years old. There was no hair on her tights so she didn't own any current pets, her red pea coat was in very new condition yet there were slight fold marks on the shoulder and waist line. A likely present from a family member, or a love-I paused.

My eyes studied her near flawless porcelain skin. Her hair fell down her heart shaped face in soft waves of red which made the green of her eyes shine. She was athletic yet still petite at a height of 5ft 3, perhaps a swimmer or a runner. There wasn't much to tell which sport yet from her overall toned physique swimming seemed the more logical choice. She was what some may rather to as pretty...strikingly so. The chances of her being a model seemed grow more highly the more I studied her. Her eyes met mine and my lips grew into a smirk. Definitely a model. I found myself almost admiring her features as she approached me, holding out a hand with a smile. Blinking, I brought myself out of my trance like state and shook her gloved hand my muscles now noticeably tense.

"Its nice to meet you Mr Holmes." I quickly smiled now noticing her soft Scottish accent. Not from Edinburgh or Glasgow no...a little more Northern, clearly Inverness. My throat dry, I cleared my throat before speaking in a low tone momentarily eyeing Mrs Hudson's unusually wide smile. "Please call me Sherlock." Dropping my hand, she looked straight into my eyes, smile still in place. "In that case call me Catrina or just Cat if you prefer." I glanced at her questioningly at the pet name 'Cat'. The likely hood of her choosing her own pet name was very low perhaps a father or an uncle had started the habit. Catrina had taken a notice of my stare and gave me a brief explanation.

"My Uncle calls me Cat so it's kinda stuck with me." As I'd expected this I voiced my understanding with a slow "Ah" and a slight smirk.

"I must say I'm surprised Sherlock," Mrs Hudson turned our attention to her as she addressed me. "Usually when you meet someone you have more to say. Especially when you do that weird thing you do...what's it called again?" My landlady frowned as her eyes searched the walls as if the answer would magically appear on the wallpaper. I rolled my eyes wondering how on earth Mrs Hudson could be so empty minded whilst I stepped away from Catrina with my hands held loosely behind my back. "I believe what you're referring to Mrs Hudson are deductions and need I remind you, you asked that I not voice them aloud or would you like to cancel that request?" As she was about to reply, Catrina's voice suddenly interrupted Mrs Hudson in a surprised tone. "I'm sorry...did you say deductions?" Our neighbour's eyes held a glint of new found interest as she stared in my direction. Refusing to let me reply the woman folded her arms and spoke with humour that most certainly stated, 'Prove it.' This perked my interest but only a little.

"So what are your deductions telling you about me, Sherlock Holmes?" Her tone challenged me as though she were a child playing her favourite game. Without missing a beat I answered her invitation as swiftly as she'd given it.

"You lived in Inverness for the majority of you life although its not your birthplace hence your only slight accent. This means that you had to move at least once in your life as a child which is likely due to your parents divorce. You're clearly athletic so my guess is that you choose to live with your father despite having a good relationship with your mother. Maybe it was mummy's fault that your parents were getting a divorce so you instinctively sought out to comfort your father. As there was a lack of motherly comfort you began to seek out a career in modelling which you are decent at but not enough to be at the top of the growing industry. Because of this fact and perhaps financial problems you were forced to move in with a close family member. But you couldn't, no...that wouldn't work for this person as they are having marital troubles so you moved here to not only improve your career but to be closer to this family member. As you mentioned your uncle my guess is that he is your main line of support along with your father." Her eyes hadn't left mine as she listened to my deductions intently, pausing for a second I stepped closer to her.

"However something made you want to stay home...something that you couldn't control." I studied her eyes looking for the reason, her composure had wavered and her eyes dropped to the floor. It then came to me. "It was because your father's health was dropping and you wanted to support him just like you did when your mother left him. But he pushed you to moved here despite your worries because he didn't want to hold you back from possible opportunities. And now here you are." There was a momentarily silence before Catrina raised her eyes back to mine and smiled almost convincingly.

"Well Sherlock your deductions were all correct," Satisfied I smirked and turned back to the window. "But I'm not a model...I'm an artist." I stopped and turned my gaze back to her, my brow began to furrow as her smile grew into a smirk. "You're quite observant Mr Holmes its not everyday you meet someone with such..." She paused searching for the correct work. "...talent."

Before anyone could comment the red head had walked to the door frame and turned to everyone with a smile. "Well I hate to be rude but now that introductions are over I have to buy some furniture. I'll see you guys around and thank you again Mrs Hudson." With that brief farewell the young woman slowly descended down the stairs until the sound of her heels slowly faded and stopped as a soft slam echoed up the staircase.

**(Catrina's pov)**

I slowly leant against the wooden door as I gazed around my empty living room as my thoughts revolved around my new neighbour and his deductions about me. His ability to read me like a book didn't shock or disturb me...I somehow found myself quite happy. I was happy to have finally found someone who could do the same as I can...even if he was more thorough than me. Shaking my head I sighed as I took in my flat...there was still a lot to do before I could finally relax. So without a moments thought I grabbed my purse and my phone and exited the flat to buy some home essentials.

By the time I'd made it into town by taxi it was about five o'clock which I knew meant that the crowds would have doubled with the workers getting off their shifts. I couldn't help myself from sighing at the mere thought for more crowds but the idea of sleeping on the floor stopped my complaining. As I didn't have much preference or the time to shop in any big home stores as soon as I saw furniture in a shop window I drove through the entrance and looked for what I needed. The first thing I ordered to be delivered later on this evening was a double bed which I'll admit was a little pricey but the beside drawers came free of change so I decided to go for it. I also bought a dark purple silk set of pillow cases and bed sheets which were surprisingly cheaper than I'd expected. Next I ordered a couch with a matching single seat that were due to arrive at my flat the next morning and a plain low brown coffee table along with a wooden dresser. After that I then got a matching wooden set of three chairs, a small dining table and a set of plates, cups, eating utensils and a black kettle for my morning coffees. I then left the shop hands full of bags which contained most of my furniture to later assemble and my other purchases. Just before I called a taxi I remembered to stop buy a small supermarket to get basic food, snacks, beverages, instant coffee and other necessary items.

As I was a quick shopper my trip into town had taken me just over thirty minutes but even with this fact I was completely exhausted by the time I'd gotten into the taxi. It was about five minutes into the taxi ride when I felt my phone buzz from within my coat pocket. Wondering who it could be I quickly reached into my pocket and unlocked my phone. I hadn't realised I'd missed three text messages until now, I began looking through them one by one finding each one to be from my uncle.

"Hey Cat, let me know when your train arrives. Hope your okay. I know this is hard for you but its for the best. Lets have coffee tomorrow to caught up alright? See you when you get here." I sighed knowing my uncle meant well and then swiped to the next message.

"Do you need me to pick you up from the station? There's a lot going on recently so you might need to come in later to help out. Sorry I know you've only just got here but it can't be helped. Has your train came in yet?" Since I hadn't slept the night before I'd ended up sleeping on the train so I'd missed these two texts which I began to feel bad for. Last one.

"Catrina, we need your help tonight. Sorry I know this is sudden but our photographer has called in sick and something's come up. You remember the agreement right? Text me as soon as you get this."

I began typing my reply trying to make out the letters through my tired eyes which thankfully didn't take me too long. "Sorry I just got your texts, I'm a little busy right now. Could I drop off some shopping first and then I'll come to the address?" I couldn't even put down my phone before my uncle replied. Wow he must be serious for such an infamous late replier.

"That's fine. Come as soon as you can. Here's the address." It took a few seconds for the text with the address I needed to come through but as soon as it did I texted, "Got it, see you in a bit." I sighed as the taxi pulled into Baker Street, so much for relaxing.

**Author's Note – Sorry for the late update but I hope you enjoyed this chapter although it was shorter and felt a bit crappy to me. *Sigh* Damn it Sherlock's pov is so hard to write! Oh well, let me know what you thought in the comments and have a lovely day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**(John's pov)**

I had no idea why I was doing this. I sat next to the strange man known as Sherlock Holmes in a taxi on our way to a crime scene whilst I continued to question my present actions. Today was proving to be more eventful than I'd ever imagined it would have been. First agreeing to move in with a complete stranger who seems to have even less sanity than me, then meeting yet another neighbour and now I was on my way to look at some dead body. But the events of today so far weren't the thoughts that fogged my brain. No, my mind was currently bursting with questions that only my mysterious new flatmate could answer. How could someone I've never met before know so much about me? Was it some kind of trick to impress me? Despite my doubts this all seemed too real to be a trick. My restlessness was apparently showing as within a minute of the taxi ride, Sherlock glanced sideways in my direction as he stated.

"Okay, you've got questions." How he could tell I didn't understand but nevertheless I didn't miss my chance. "Yeah, where are we going?" Sherlock's expression seemed to show signs of annoyance as if I was meant to know that already but he kept his tone the same. " A crime scene, next." I'd need to remember that he seems to have absolutely zero social skills later. I moved on to my next question keeping a quick pace, inhaling softly. "Who are you? What do you do?" He kept his eyes forward not bothering to look at me as he questioned. "What do you think?" I'd been puzzling over this for a while now so I went with my most possible guess. "I'd say...private detective-"

"But?" I paused for a few seconds and pursed my lips. "...the police don't go to private detectives." A smirk grew on Sherlock's lips seeming to be amused by my theory. "I'm a consulting detective, only one in the word. I invented the job." Frowning, I shifted in my sit to face him more directly and then pondered. "What does that mean?" Growing impatient he answered now looking out of the taxi window. "It means that when the police are out of there depth, which is always. They consult me." I couldn't help myself from almost laughing at the thought, surely he must be joking.

"The police don't consult amateurs." I scoffed looking at the man beside me. No longer interested in the view of London's streets Sherlock turned to look at me scornfully before giving me a sly smirk. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised." I gave him my full interest and replied. "Yes, how did you know?" He corrected me instantly and I prepared myself for a rant which I wasn't wrong about. "I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists: you've been abroad but not sunbathing. The limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic: wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan: Afghanistan or Iraq." My brow had furrowed as I listened to his reasoning trying to take it all in. "You said I had a therapist?"

"You've got a psychosomatic limp. Of course you've got a therapist." I watched him intently as Sherlock brought out my phone and examined it as he went on. "Then there's your brother. Your phone—it's expensive, email enabled, MP3 player. But you're looking for a flat-share, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches—not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. The next bit's easy, you know it already." He then flipped the phone over to revel the engraving which read, _Harry Watson — from Clara xxx. _Puzzled I questioned, "The engraving?"

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says a romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must've given it to him recently; this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then—six months on, and already he's giving it away? If she'd left , he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But _no_, he wanted rid of it—he left _her_. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you _don't_ like his drinking." I interrupted him just as confused as before he started 'explaining' his knowledge about my life. "How can you possibly know about the drinking?"

Smirk still in place he concluded. "Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge. Every night he goes to plug it in and charge but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you see? You were right." My eye brows shot up and I found myself completely dumbfounded again, "_I_ was right? Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs."

**(Catrina's pov)**

After finally arriving at the address and exiting the taxi, I found myself being greeted by the blinding lights of police cars and ambulances along with the noisy mutters of passing pedestrians. Sighing heavily I dragged my heels towards the crime scene trying desperately to ignore the growing aches in my feet. I prayed that I wouldn't have blisters when I finally got to my flat but I knew that it was a pointless thing to do. Blisters at this point were inevitable. My day keeps getting better and better. I gazed down at the police tape which stretched all around the building, glanced around and then lifted it over my head. I was slightly surprised that none of the police officers noticed this or had tried to stop me. I rolled my eyes, despite all of this effort the police put in to 'mark off the area' they're security definitely needed some improvement. My heels clicked as I walked past the police cars which had five male officers surrounding them chatting amongst themselves. I'd pasted two of the officers without being noticed until a female's voice broke through the mix of male voices.

"Oi!" I turned my head. The scowling woman folded her arms and lifted a thin eyebrow. Height roughly 5ft 5 without her two inch heels, recovering smoker, has a string of frequent sexual interactions going by her lack of energy and the state of her knees (not to mention the obviously masculine scent to her deodorant), her make-up also wasn't disguising that she was in her late twenties. I felt myself smile when I looked at her bushy hair, she'd obviously attempted to flatten her locks as there were visible flat iron streaks all over the brown strands that didn't give her appearance justice. Her London accent was clear as a whistle and honestly quite annoying which didn't help my growing headache but I didn't want to be rude. I pursed my lips waiting for her to speak.

"What do you think your doing? Can't you read? This is a clearly marked off area so I'll ask you to kindly leave." No points for personality then. Deciding to drop my usual kind act, I scoffed loudly at the extremely rude woman as she glared at me and glanced at her through my long lashes with a blank expression. "Perhaps you should consider switching to trousers Sergeant, I hear they cover a wide variety of sins." Her face was priceless. Not even bothering to hear her most likely bad comeback, I turned on my heel and walked towards the crime scene but only to be blocked by another male with the same deodorant as the now pissed off woman.

"Hey, this is a crime scene if you can't see that so please-" Losing patience I shoved my shoulder into the ranting man, cutting him off from his speech as he tried to get his footing back. "Yes I can see that thank you. Now if you'll be so kind, get out of my way." Surprisingly not one of the other officers even tried to stop me from entering the building although their eyes followed me as I walked past them. I kept my head forward looking for one man in particular, my uncle. Scanning the faces around me I sighed finding him to be no where in sight, finding that the pain in my heels only caused each second to pass slower. Just as my hand reached into my jacket pocket to grab my mobile phone, I heard a familiar voice trying to catch his breath from behind me.

"Cat?" I turned around finding my uncle standing in the doorway with two other officers staring me down behind his back, my uncle sighed and dismissed them briefly explaining that I was meant to be here. He had taken notice that almost everyone had turned their attention to us so he took me aside and instantly smiled through his exhaustion. "I'm glad you're here but you know you shouldn't have just walked in like that. Its not taken very lightly especially with all the serial suicides going on." This didn't surprise me as I had noticed the highlights on the newspapers when I'd left my train earlier today. I shrugged with a smirk and plucked a stray hair from my uncles coat. "Maybe you should upgrade your security then eh Uncle Lessy? It was fairly easy to sneak past your officers...well apart from the loud mouth and the over confident blue suit." Uncles eyebrows raised and opened his mouth as if to say something but then quickly decided to stop himself. My eyes shifted to the door frame when suddenly a teenage male walked through with a camera in his hands. The expression on my face turned into a sour one. 'Photographer called in sick' my ass.

"Oh no, no, no. You promised me that you wouldn't make me do this again uncle! I don't want to be a part of this." Trying to storm past the exasperated man in front of me I was brought to a standstill when my arm was suddenly grabbed by the strong hand of my relative. His brown orbs bore into my green pools. No words were needed. I could see him pleading me to stay and help him with this case from his brown swirls but I was unwilling to soften which I reflected back in mine.

But the exhaustion had finally hit me like a tidal wave and I caved.

I sighed. "Alright..." Uncle's shoulders dropped in relief like a large weight had been washed from them as the words left my mouth. "But_ only_ this one time." A hand now in his pockets he nodded, gesturing upstairs he mentioned for me to follow him. "Right well come on then better get started before your colleague gets here."

My brow furrowed...colleague?

**(Sherlock's pov)**

"Hello _freak_." Sergeant Donovan announced as doctor Watson and I neared the restricted police tape. My eyes narrowed at the irritating woman momentarily taking mental notes about her appearance. There hadn't been much of a change this evening, nothing to make a comment on. Even though the bags under her eyes indicated a lack of sleep and her make-up was much more bold and smudged. I didn't bother to question it.

"I'm here to see detective inspector Lestrade." I stated since that apparently wasn't obvious to her. Sally, clearly not being satisfied with just that asked with a questioning gaze, "Why?" Slowly my head turned to look at the woman feeling my patience being tested as the seconds went by. Jaw clenched I kept my tone normal. "I was invited."

"Why." She continued to ask only this time her voice was bitter and cutting although that didn't affect my confidence nor my pride in the slightest. My neutral expression switched into a smug one and I wondered if this numb-skull excuse of an woman had any intelligence whatsoever. "I _think_ he wants me to take a look." Once the words had left my mouth Sally's eyes grew wider with hate as she attempted to unnerve me with her cold gaze. Her voice laced with annoyance as she remarked. "Well you know what _I_ think don't you?"

Lifting the tape over my head I answered, "Always Sally." Taking a step closer to the woman a sudden a scent filled my nostrils and I frowned making another observation to myself though my eyes searched Sally's. "You didn't make it home last night..." Shock glazed over her plain features and her mouth fell open, I took another glance at her appearance but actually looked this time causing my frown deepen. As doctor Watson came into her line of vision she put her arm out to stop him in his tracks if awoken from a trance.

"Uh who's this?" Hm a clear attempt to change the subject. Nonetheless I played along and glanced at the shorter man who leaned against his walking stick. "A colleague of mine. Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan...an old friend" Sarcasm dripping from my tongue as the last words slipped through my teeth. The statement seemed to confuse Sally and she looked at me obviously thinking that I was joking. "A colleague?" Her lips grew into a smile as she eyed me up and down. "How did you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?" Sally's eyes darted from mine to John's finding the situation to be very funny indeed. John's expression was an uncomfortable one as he seemed to find the atmosphere tense.

"It might be better if I just wait in the-" I lifted the tape higher and cut him off. "No." As soon as his head was under the tape I let it slip from my fingers and followed Sally to the crime scene. I took notes on everything in sight, the pavement, the cars and even the gutters. Looking up I scowled when I saw another figure exiting the building. _Anderson_. Each step closer to the idiot made my blood boil more and more until the man stood in front of me. "Ahh Anderson. Here we are again."

"Its a crime scene, I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" I smirked. "Quite clear." Inhaling sharply finding a familiar but unpleasant scent filling my lungs, I swiftly interjected without care of the consequence. "Is your wife away for long?" Anderson rolled his eyes and straightened his posture. "Oh don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Oh well, well now it all made sense.

"Your deodorant told me that," I corrected him looking around the building in boredom. "My deodorant." My eyebrows raised at his stupidity and I openly mocked him. "It's for men." Anderson's frown grew deeper and he raised his voice slightly finding my words offending. "Well of course its for men. I'm wearing it." Glancing at the other party behind him I noted aloud, "So's Sergeant Donovan." The man wheeled around to look at the woman and I inhaled loud enough for him to hear. "Oof, I think it just vaporised. May I go in?" Panicking now Anderson turned to me with a stern expression and wiggled his index finger with a nervous twitch. "Now whatever you're trying to imply-"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over." I brushed past the pair and neared the entrance to the crime scene. "And I assume that she scrubbed your floors going by the state of her knees." I turned on my heel with a smirk before I caught Sally muttering to Anderson, "That woman noticed as well..." My smirk fell slightly.

'That woman?'

**Author's Note - I'm sorry for the late update but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Was this chapter a bit chappy or is it just me? Let me know what you thought of it in the comments. Also, I will have scenes from the show to help the story flow better even when Catrina won't be included but feel free to skip those bits if it bores you. Remember to smile, see you!**


End file.
